


Nothing colder than being alone

by lalalalalahahahahaha



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:28:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24367327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalalalalahahahahaha/pseuds/lalalalalahahahahaha
Summary: While looking for Bucky, Steve gets caught by Hydra goons looking for a little payback.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing Steve felt was cold. Steve hated cold. Ever since he was a small child and cold could mean death. The war had been cold too, but not as bad. The Howling Commandos had kept each other warm and he had always had Bucky by his side.

Then he had gone into the ice and he knew cold would be the last thing he ever felt and…

Steve pulled himself away from the memory with a will. He tried to open his eyes but it was like he had forgotten how. Everything felt fuzzy and just out of reach, like he was wading through a dense fog.

Something hit him hard in the side and his whole body seized up as electricity coursed through him. When it stopped, he slumped down limply, his muscles still twitching.

“Sorry Cap. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

He opened his eyes and winced. There was a blinding light shining right into his face and he could barley see anything else. But he could see the man that was standing over him. And even though he couldn't make out the features, he knew that voice.

“Rumlow”, Steve rasped, “They said you died when the helicarriers crashed.”

“Nah Cap. I’ve still got work to do.”

Steve forced his groggy brain to take inventory. They had taken his uniform, leaving him in an under shirt and pants. He couldn't see the room but it had the clammy cold of being deep underground. What felt like leather straps stretched tightly across his body, pinning him down. He tried to free his arms but he could barely move them at all. What the hell?

He should have been able to rip the table apart. Then he remembered.

* * *

The warehouse was supposed to be empty. All the other Hydra hideouts they had searched so far in Northern Russia had been empty.

It was suppose to be empty, or Sam and Nat never would have let him go without backup. They had headed to another city to meet up with an old contact of Natasha's. Steve had waved their worries away.

“I'll be fine. This will go faster if we split up.”

Steve had been searching through discarded papers in a ransacked office, trying to find any information that might help him find Bucky, when he heard the running footsteps.

Steve turned, raising his shield just in time to stop the hail of bullets that filled the room. Men in black tactical gear swarmed him and tried to overwhelm him with sheer numbers.

Six men were already down when smoke bomb went off. Or he thought it had been a smoke bomb. He realized too late that the men had been wearing gas masks. Steve tried to hold his breath but it was impossible to do that and still fight. The gas was noxious and heavy, and Steve could feel his body slowing down. Two more gas grenades went off and he tried to force his way through the Hydra agents to get to the door.

He needed air, he had to…

Something sharp bit into his neck and he felt his legs buckle underneath him. He fell hard on the concrete floor. Someone spat out a few commands in Russian and, as darkness pulled Steve Rodgers down, his shield was pulled out of his limp fingers.

* * *

Rumlow was speaking to someone off to Steve’s left.

“Rollins, take your team and secure the perimeter.”

Several pairs of footsteps echoed in the room. A metal door slammed. 

“Chambers, the IV line.”

“Yes sir.”

Another shadow stepped into the light. Without any warning, a needle slid smoothly into his arm.

Steve let out a shout and thrashed wildly, trying to throw the man off. But he might as well have been a kitten for how much it helped.

Rumlow was leaning down again. Steve was just starting to adjust to the light in time to see the second man hang a bag of clear liquid from a nearby stand. He froze in horror at the sight and the realization about how bad the situation was.

“Do you want to know what this is?”

He didn’t pause for an answer.

“It’s a counter to the serum. We lucked into a stash of it a little bit ago and we've been saving it just for you. Sadly it’s not permanent, but it lasts a long time. The Soviets developed it back in the day when they were breaking in Barnes. It’s hard to torture a super soldier after all. But after they fried his brain enough, he would let them do anything to him.”

Steve's vision went red with rage and he spat in Rumlow’s face. The Hydra commander wiped off the spittle and backhanded Steve hard.

“You’ll regret that Rodgers.”

“Fuck you!”

Rumlow turned his back to Steve picking something heavy off the steel table.

“You’re a bunch of cowards!” Steve snarled, “You could never take me in a straight fight. You’re weak and afraid! You’ll never…!”

Rumlow spun and swung something at Steve’s head. Pain exploded at his right temple, his vision went white and he bit through his tongue, blood filling his mouth.

Rumlow examined the crowbar in his hands, that manic grin back on his face.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment. I’m gonna take my time with you Cap.”

Rumlow tossed the crowbar aside and picked up a wicked looking blade.

“Sorry about that. I was too hasty and a crowbar is a little too crude.”

He brought the blade up to Steve’s face, tracing around his eye. Steve watched it as it came closer, trying to hold completely still as pain throbbed through his head.

“Order through pain.”

Rumlow murmured reverently, the blade finding the wound at Steve’s temple and digging into the gash. Steve bit back a scream, trying to pull away from the blade.

“That’s how Hydra will conquer the world. And you, Captain America, will never know an end to pain until you beg for death.”

Rumlow pulled the blade away and smirked.

“What? No more threats? Nothing to say Cap?”

Steve spat a mouthful of blood on the floor and didn't answer.

This was bad. Sam and Nat were two cities to the south and he wasn’t due to check in with them till tomorrow, unless he had lost more time than he thought.

But even if they knew he was in trouble, how would they find him? He had no clue where he was, and he couldn’t free himself, let alone fight.

He clenched his jaw as Rumlow cut through his undershirt with a vicious slash. It opened a long gash in its wake. 

Once the skin was exposed, Rumlow examined it like it was a project he wasn’t sure how to start.

“No scars.”

He commented, tracing the tip of the blade over Steve’s unmarred skin.

“The serum I suppose. I wonder if you’ll scar now though. Only one way to find out.”

He started flicking the blade over Steve’s chest. Small nicks at first, like paper-cuts, then growing deeper, longer and more jagged. Sometimes he would go back to a previous cut and make it bigger.

Steve tried to breathe through the unpredictable pain. He could endure whatever this asshole threw at him. He had his mission. He had his friends to come back to.

He closed his eyes and tried to bring their faces to mind, but electricity surged through him again and he couldn’t think of anything else.

Steve had no idea how much time passed before Rumlow released him.

He slumped down, panting heavily.

“Can’t have you falling asleep on me Cap. We’re going to be here a long time, and I don’t want you to miss the fun.”

Steve tried to headbutt Rumlow when he leaned down again, but only succeeded in getting another taste of the stun baton.

Another voice, ‘ _Chambers_ ’ Steve thought dimly, spoke softly from across the room.

“Perhaps we could try the water sir?”

Rumlow smiled down at Steve.

“You thirsty Captain? What kind of host would I be if I didn’t offer my honored guest refreshment?”

Steve didn’t like the sound of that, but he couldn’t do more than grit his teeth.

Rumlow picked a burlap sack off the table and pulled it over Steve’s head. Steve knew then what was about to happen. He had heard of it during the war and then again in his education in modern warfare. He tried to seal his lips closed, hoping desperately that it wouldn’t be as bad if the water couldn’t get into his mouth.

The stun baton was jabbed hard enough into his ribs to break something, and he screamed as the pain raced through his body. As soon as the baton was taken away, a hose was turned on drenching the cloth with ice cold water.

They started to alternate, first the baton, then the hose, then the baton again.

Steve tried to control his reaction. He wasn’t really drowning, he wasn’t really dying.

He wasn’t

He wasn’t

He was dying

Pain was everywhere, was everything.

He couldn’t think, couldn’t scream, couldn’t breathe,

“What’s wrong Cap? Don’t like my hospitality?”

Time meant nothing. Nothing existed but the suffocating darkness and the seizing pain.

“Do you not want to play anymore?”

The hose was turned off and Steve tried to inhale slowly but he was coughing too hard.

Rumlow grabbed Steve’s chin through the cloth, digging his fingers in hard, and leaned down close.

“Beg me Rodgers. Beg me to stop, beg me to end it. There is nothing you can do but submit.”

Steve knew he couldn’t fight back, but he wasn’t about to give Rumlow the satisfaction of hearing him beg for mercy. Besides Hydra was never one for mercy anyway.

His voice was too raw from screaming to speak, but he managed to shake his head once.

Rumlow let go of Steve’s face and tsked.

“Well Cap, I’m disappointed in you. Maybe you need another strong drink?”

Without warning the cycle started again.

Steve pulled against the straps to no avail as he fought the pain.

‘ _I’m going to die here_.’

The thought was oddly detached, like part of him had already let go.

Steve never knew how long it went on, maybe moments maybe hours.

Dimly he heard a door slam open and a man's desperate voice screamed out. 

“We have to run! He'll kill us all!!!”

The hose was taken away and Steve tried to suck in a desperate breath but the wet burlap clung hard to his face.

Rumlow snarled at the newcomer.

“What is it? Where's Rollins?”

“He's dead!! They're all dead!! We've gotta get outta of here!!”

The man was shouting, but even with his voice filling the room Steve could hear a metallic clatter. Like someone had dropped a spraycan.

A deafening explosion filled the small room.

Men were shouting, screaming in pain. Too many gunshots to count rang out.

Steve tried to suck in another breath, thrashing weakly. His ears were ringing and he wanted it all to stop. He just wanted the pain to stop.

“Kill him!! Kill..!”

The shout cut off into a wet gurgle then a heavy thump.

More screaming, a sickening crack, then silence.

A pair of hands were suddenly on him.

Steve flinched away, struggling even though he knew it was hopeless.

Someone pulled the cloth away from his face and he gasped at sweet oxygen, coughing violently. Steve blinked up at the man standing over him. It was too bright and he hurt so badly.

“Wh…?” another fit of coughing racked him.

“Shhh don’t talk, just breathe.”

He felt the other man pulling at the straps until they gave way. Then the face was leaning closer, blue grey eyes examining him, and Steve thought he was going crazy. It couldn’t be…

“Bucky…” he croaked.

“Get up, we need to leave.”

Steve tried but his body wasn't responding properly. He managed to move only a little before the pain made him cry out.

He tried again, but his leg spasmed under him and he fell.

Strong hands caught him and laid him down. The floor was ice cold.

He wasn’t the only body laying on the floor. Rumlow lay facing Steve, blood still pulsing out of a deep wound in his neck.

He felt the IV being removed from his arm, but another needle took it's place.

“No...”

He tried to squirm away from the pain. He just wanted it to stop. 

The thought was washed away along with the pain as the drug seeped into his system.

Steve forced his eyes open even as darkness swirled over his vision.

A glimpse of the blue gray eyes, a gleam of metal, and then...nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what the flash bang sounds like https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0YsC6M4GFoc


	2. Chapter 2

The soldier was used to pain. He was used to violence.

He even was starting to get used to the freedom to go where he wanted and not submit to a handler every time he did anything.

But he wasn’t used to this anger.

No, that wasn’t quite right.

This rage, this hatred.

He wanted to turn and drive his boot into the scarred face of the nearest dead man. He wanted all of them to die again and again until they screamed for mercy.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

They were dead. They didn’t matter. Steve was all that mattered, and Steve was hurt.

_A back alley. A small form smashed face first into a trash can. A man stepping forward to drive a kick into his unprotected side._

“ _Hey! Pick on someone your own size!”_

The soldier couldn’t look away from the prone form.

It wasn’t Steve, only it was. He knew him.

“ _I thought you were dead.”_

“ _I thought you were smaller.”_

The soldier shook off the thought, hoping he would be able to remember it later to write it down.

He scanned Steve for injuries.

Bruising and a bleeding wound on his face and temple, cuts all over his torso, burn marks from a stun baton turned up to max on his side, and a few ribs that were at least cracked.

He turned Steve’s head to examine his wound. Serious but not fatal.

Steve let out a low groan as the soldier moved him.

Pain shot through the soldier’s chest. He wanted to soothe the man; take all the pain away and promise it’ll never hurt again. But he couldn’t waste any time.

They had to get out of here.

He dug in his backpack for some bandages. There wasn’t time for proper medical treatment, the soldier would settle for slowing the major bleeding for now.

Once he was done, the soldier took one more glance over the room and the dead men. A duffel bag caught his eye, thrown carelessly in the corner. The soldier strode across the room and unzipped the flap. Red and white stripes reflected dimly in the poor light but it was enough.

The soldier threw the bag over his shoulder and stepped back to the table, back to Steve laying still at its base.

He leaned down and, careful not to jostle him too much, lifted Steve over his shoulder. It wasn’t as easy as it had once been, but he managed it all the same.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Steve opened his eyes slowly. There were blankets wrapped around him, and damn the warmth felt good.

He was sprawled on a cot in what looked like a bedroom of a cabin that had been abandoned for years. Dust covered furniture and the floor in a thick layer, but the fireplace in the corner of the room was lit and filling the small space with warmth.

He tried to sit up, but pain shot through his chest and his temple.

Steve groaned and fell back on the bed.

“Fuck!”

He reached up, feeling the bandages wound around his head.

“What the hell..?”

Then he remembered.

The warehouse, the lab, Rumlow, the stun baton, the water.

Steve pushed himself up ignoring the pain and tried to move towards the door.

He had to get out of here, had to get somewhere safe.

Steve’s heartbeat was pounding in his temple, the pain ratcheting up even higher

He had only made it a few staggering steps when the door opened.

Steve froze in place, for a moment able to do nothing but stare.

Bucky Barnes stood in the doorway wearing castoff dark clothes. Chin length dark hair fell around a thin face, much thinner than he had been when Steve last saw him. But his blue-grey eyes were clear and steady.

Those eyes, he thought he had seen those eyes before in the lab but even now he could hardly believe it.

“Bucky…?”

“You’re bleeding.”

Steve glanced down at his bare chest which was also covered in bandages. Blood was slowly staining the cloth.

When he looked up again, the other man was moving forward closing the door behind him.

“Lay down. You’re hurt.”

Lying down would be nice, everything hurt and he didn’t want to think about…

He shuddered, closing his eyes thinking of Rumlow. The memories were starting to pour in faster now. The baton, then the hose, then the baton and…

“Breathe! It’s over. They’re dead now.”

Steve hadn’t even noticed he was hyperventilating. Bucky's strong hands gripped him by the shoulders, stopping Steve from sliding down to the ground in a heap.

Steve felt himself being steered back to the bed, his hands clenched into fists in Bucky's shirt and slowly the words Bucky was saying got through.

They’re dead? But how?

Then he remembered, the explosion, the gunfire, someone pulling off the straps.

“You saved me?”

Bucky nodded, pushing him down on his back.

Steve went without a fight, laying back and trying to slow his breathing.

Bucky reached for a water bottle from the floor next to the cot. His right hand, the flesh one, slipped behind Steve’s head and tilted his face up. The other hand brought the water to Steve’s lips.

“Take small sips.”

Steve obeyed without hesitation, his eyes never leaving his best friends face.

Bucky set the water down and picked up a syringe off a bedside table.

Steve eyed it warily.

Bucky paused, seeming to sense the tension.

“It's morphine. The drugs they gave you take a long time to wear off and you won't heal much til then.”

The adrenaline that had got Steve up and moving and the shock of seeing Bucky again had pushed the agony to the back of his mind. But now it started to pulse through every fiber of his being.

Steve managed a small nod and closed his eyes. He felt Bucky tying something around his upper arm, feeling around for a vein, then a sharp pinch.

The pain began to ebb, slowly at first then more quickly as it spread. He hardly noticed Bucky taking off the tourniquet.

He could feel his body dragging him back down to unconsciousness but he tried to fight it.

Bucky held the water to his lips again and Steve managed to swallow some of it.

When Bucky took the water away, Steve spoke again, voice slow and slurred.

“Bucky, do...you....know....me…?”

His voice trailed off as darkness engulfed him once more.

“You’re Steve.”


	4. Chapter 4

The soldier sat on a hard wooden chair next to the cot and watched Steve sleep.

Sleep made him look younger, vulnerable even.

The soldier had re-bandaged the wounds, and added a few more logs to the fire.

Steve would not be cold.

_”Make sure he doesn’t get cold. He could die if we don’t drive out the cold. I’ll be back from hospital soon Sugar.”  
_

_A women with blonde hair and blue eyes touches his cheek  
_

He had seen her before. It was calming to think of her kind worn face. It was like Steve’s face.

The soldier had moved everything he had into this room. He didn’t want Steve to wake up alone and panic again. It was only his backpack anyway. He didn’t need much beyond his weapons, a med kit, and his notebooks.

He had stolen the notebooks from a small corner store in Washington DC, when the flashes and dreams had started getting harder to keep straight. The soldier always tried to keep them close, so he could remember.

The blond man groaned and stirred, eyes starting to flicker open.

The morphine must be starting to wear off. He should give him another dose. The soldier doesn't want Steve to be in pain

“..ucky?”

There was that name again.

‘Your name' a small voice reminded him.

_“The Asset doesn’t have a name. It is only a weapon.”_

“Bucky?”

Steve’s eyes finally opened, more alert than before.

He tried to sit up again, but the soldier laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t. You’ll reopen your wounds. Lay still.”

Steve groaned as he relaxed back onto the cot.

The soldier started preparing the next dose mechanically. He wondered vaguely who had taught him this. Like most of the skills he had, it was just there with no memories attached to learning it.

“Where are we?” Steve's voice was rough with just a little slur in it.

“A cabin about 5 klicks from where they had you.”

Steve nodded, eyes flicking briefly over the room before landing back on the soldier.

He never could get used to those intense blue eyes. They always seemed to be trying to see more than what was there.

_A small boy, blond hair falling into his eyes. The gentle scratch of his charcoal pencil. Blue eyes flicking up every few seconds to the skyline. ‘I could watch him draw forever.’_

The soldier set the prepared syringe down for a moment and reached into his backpack to pull out his notebook.

He made a few notes about the memory. Sometimes if he didn't write it down fast enough, it would slip away and he wouldn't be able to pull it to mind again.

“Thank you Buck for saving me. I... I thought I was dead back there.”

The soldier stopped writing and looked up at Steve.

He wasn’t sure why Steve was thanking him. The soldier obeyed his programming. No one had ever thanked him for doing was he was supposed to do.

Steve was important.

Steve must be protected.

“Here, drink.”

The soldier held out the bottle and Steve was able to take a few more sips.

“How did you know I was there anyway?”

The soldier didn’t hesitate to answer. It felt natural to give Steve his mission report. Maybe Steve had been his commanding officer.

“ _You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?”_

The soldier wrote down ‘Captain America jaws of death’ as he spoke.

“I saw them drag you in. I’ve been following you ever since Moscow.”

He picked up the needle.

“Moscow?”

He could almost see the gears working in Steve’s head.

“But it’s been almost a month since we were in Moscow, how did you…?”

The soldier shrugged. The gesture was almost familiar.

“You should leave the covert operations to Natasha next time. You’re not overly skilled at stealth.”

Steve exhaled a soft laugh.

“I suppose it’s not my strong suit is it?”

The soldier started feeling around for a vein, but Steve's hand pawed at the searching fingers.

“Bucky. Please just wait a second. I’ve been looking all over for you for months.”

The soldier had stilled at the touch and nodded not saying anything.

“You were hurt when the helicarriers fell. I searched everywhere. I didn’t want you to be alone.”

The soldier wasn’t sure how to respond. He had known that Steve had tried to find him. Steve was pretty easy to spot.

“You pulled me from the river. You know me. Why didn’t you stay?”

The soldier blinked.

Staying hadn’t occurred to him as an option. He had known that Steve’s people would find him and take care of him.

But where could the soldier fit in there?

More and more space in his notebooks had been filling up with the people he’d killed.

Sometimes all he had was a description; his memory was patchy at best.

Steve was looking at him with pleading blue eyes. The soldier could see not only the pain of the wounds in Steve's eyes, but another pain too. An old wound that was bleeding again. A grief too painful to express.

_The building was coming down around them. Explosions blooming everywhere he looked. Steve yelling at at him._

“ _Just go! Get out of here!”_

“ _No! Not without you!”_

_If Steve died here, he would die with him._

_The cold wind whipping past him as his hands clutched desperately to a piece of metal, Steve was calling to him, reaching for him._

“ _Bucky! Hang on! Grab my hand!”_

_The shriek of metal giving way._

“ _No!”_

_He fell through empty air, screaming and reaching hopelessly for Steve._

The soldier looked away from those blue eyes, trying to pull away from the sharpness of the memory.

This was too much. The soldier knew he wasn’t just a weapon, he was a man. He had a name. And Steve cared if he was hurt or alone.

But he was the soldier too.

He had killed so many people.

The soldier took a steadying breath and steeled his resolve. His left hand pulled Steve's fingers away and he slid the needle into Steve's arm.

“Buck...”

The soldier didn't lift his eyes to meet that gaze and stood up.

“The drugs should be out of your system in a few hours. You’re backup will be here by then.”

He turned away, his backpack in one hand and stepped toward the door.

“Wait!”

Steve lunged with all his strength, body half-hanging off the cot, and just managed to grab the soldier’s wrist.

“Stop! Please don’t go. I can’t lose you again.”

The soldier could have easily broken his grip, could have broken his arm for that matter. But he stopped, looking back.

“Stay with me Bucky, Please. You don’t have to be alone. Come back with me.”

_A smaller Steve, grief etched on his face but still trying to be strong._

“ _Thank you Buck. But I can get by on my own.”_

“ _The thing is, you don’t have too,” a voice that’s his and not his, “I’m with you till the end of the line pal.”_

Steve’s bigger now, but his eyes are still the same. That blue tugs at something deep inside the soldier’s chest.

His little Stevie.

He turned fully and lifted Steve back onto the cot. Steve's eyes started to drift closed, the morphine doing its work. He could see Steve trying to fight it, like he always tried to fight.

“Please....”

Bucky Barnes soothed him.

“Shhh I’ll watch over you.”

Steve slipped back under, his hand never letting go.


End file.
